


you’re all i ever wanted, i think i’ll regret this

by paperweighted



Category: Mythic Quest: Raven's Banquet (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Mutual Pining, Title from a Mitski Song, Yearning, all of these tags are question marks, question mark question mark - Freeform, warning for swearing alcohol mention implied sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27208264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperweighted/pseuds/paperweighted
Summary: David stops himself, but not before a single tear rolls down his cheek. Brad begins to reach out with a shaky hand, a pleading expression on his face - begging David to be vulnerable with him one last time, let him wipe away one last tear, forgive one last misdoing.Or, David and Brad grapple with the aftermath of a mistake.
Relationships: Brad Bakshi & David Brittlesbee, Brad Bakshi/David Brittlesbee
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	you’re all i ever wanted, i think i’ll regret this

The first day that David wakes up alone, in his  _ own  _ bed, he pulls the covers over his head trying to escape the sunlight. It shines through the white duvet, and he rolls over to bury his face in his pillow, the bed feeling too big, too empty. He’s always been a morning person. Now he barely feels like a person at all. Last night’s three hours of sleep did little to quell the pit in his chest, and now that unrelenting heaviness causes him to sink even deeper into the mattress. It’s a profound ache, the sadness having crawled inside and settled like a burrowing animal, making a home for itself inside the cavity behind his rib cage. Lifting his head he wipes the dried tears from his cheeks, his face feeling stiff. He can taste the remnants of a drink he was too emotionally spent to actually finish while sitting at his kitchen table at three A.M. He had taken a single sip before pouring it back into the bottle, screwing the cap back on, and shuffling off to bed. He’d received it as a gift from C.W. forever ago and had shelved it immediately, never actually intending to drink it. He’s more of a wine person, anyway. Putting the bottle back in the cabinet, he had laughed to himself quietly. Bitterly.  _ This is dumb. This isn’t me _ , he had thought.  _ Maybe I wish it was.  _

He feels the whole weight of the world on his shoulders and wants to sob, wants to let himself break just one more time before he starts his day. He doesn’t know yet if he’s already emptied himself of all the tears contained in his hollow body. 

Secondary to the grief and devastation is the anger. How could Brad throw all of this away? Everything they had together? Couldn’t he at least grant David the dignity of a conversation, a chance to talk things through before coming to such a decision? David feels he deserves at least a little bit of respect, some common courtesy. Brad had always had a predisposition to make David’s blood boil, but this is so much worse. So much more unexpected. 

The actual breakup was brief. Unceremonious. Insignificant, almost, or at least that’s how it seemed Brad saw it. David couldn’t be sure, because Brad was always brief with matters like this anyway. The two of them had stayed late at the office the night prior. Paperwork. A comfortable quiet had settled around them in their office as they worked at their respective desks - until around dinnertime when David asked Brad whether he wanted to order Chinese or Thai. 

“Well, actually…” Brad turned in his chair to face David. If his voice sounded more serious than usual, David didn’t notice. 

“Pizza instead?” David said over his shoulder, smiling. 

“Um… I wanted to talk to you about something. I didn’t know when else to bring it up.” David stopped smiling. What a gut-punch those words always were. He turned towards Brad. His expression was grave, his eyes shinier than usual, and he almost looked like he wished he hadn’t said anything. He sighed, quickly running his hand through his hair. 

David might have been able to remember what Brad had said - if the ringing in his ears didn’t begin to drown out Brad’s voice. If his surroundings didn’t begin to blur and blend together. If his thoughts didn’t begin to…

“I hope you can understand, David. Maybe it was just… I don’t know. Right place, wrong time... Or something.” He sounded guilty, remorseful, like it was something he couldn’t prevent from happening. David nodded, unwilling to meet the other man’s eyes. Instead, he focused on Brad’s hands, gathering up paperwork and slipping manila file folders into a brown leather messenger bag. He snapped out of it a bit when Brad finally stood up. 

“Hey. I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow.” He slung the bag over his shoulder and stood for a moment regarding David before exiting their shared office, tapping the door frame as he left. For the rest of the night David wondered if Brad really ever gave a single good reason for why this was happening. A reason as to why he was doing this. 

Now, David sighs to himself as he reaches from under the covers for his watch on his bedside table. He checks the time - 7:37 A.M. About twenty minutes to get ready and get to work.  _ Oh God,  _ he thinks to himself.  _ Work _ . He’s going to be late.

He resents Brad - for dumping him, yes, but especially for dumping him in the middle of a workweek when they would have to face each other the very next day. But God, knowing Brad, there are so many other reasons to resent him. And love him. And resent him all over again. 

David pulls himself up out of bed and drags himself to the bathroom. He looks into the mirror and almost doesn’t recognize the man looking back at him - dark circles emphasize his puffy eyes, swollen from crying. He looks utterly empty. Broken. He splashes some cold water on his face, hoping it livens him up a little. It doesn’t. He doesn’t have the energy to care. He combs his fingers through his hair once, deciding that’s enough. 

He gets dressed, almost grabbing the clothes he wore yesterday off the floor but choosing to expend the extra effort to open his closet doors. Everything is difficult today. It feels like wading through water. Slow. Heavy. The water pours in and in and in all around him, never slowing, never stopping. Slower. Heavier. He nearly breaks down entirely upon seeing one of Brad’s t-shirts in his dresser drawer, but he does his best to hold it together, to ignore the sharp sting at the corner of his eyes as he closes the drawer. The cavity in his chest expands, sinks deeper and farther as he imagines what it’s going to feel like to see Brad today. When he has to sit with him, in their shared office, for eight hours. For a split second as he gathers his phone, keys, and bag, he considers quitting, but realizes he’s being dramatic and shakes his head at himself. 

The commute is slow, agonizing - he’s running late and traffic is bad. He would be grateful that it’s taking him forever to get to the office if it didn’t instead feel like the whole ordeal of being face-to-face with Brad again was being so interminably drawn out. 

When he finally reaches the building’s garage and parks his car, he turns off the engine and rests his head and hands against the steering wheel, knuckles white from maintaining such a tight grip. He’s already late and figures a couple more minutes couldn’t hurt - and he would rather try to gain some composure than just walk in right now, still late, and in shambles. He takes some deep breaths. And a few more deep breaths. And a few more. 

...

The entire day, David keeps his head down, doesn’t say much to anyone - especially Brad, who he avoids at all costs. It seems that Brad is doing the same - he hasn’t been in their office today more than twice: once in the morning before David arrived, and halfway through the day to grab some paperwork. David imagines Brad must be doing his work in Poppy’s office. 

His chest is tight and there’s an ever-present lump in his throat, but he’s able to keep it together - until he almost breaks down completely mid-meeting. It’s him, Poppy, Ian, Jo, and of course, Brad. As Poppy and Ian begin to bicker, David sees Brad roll his eyes in the way he always does, and it all comes rushing back. For a moment, he forgets not to love Brad, his cool and cold facade, the way he only sheds that skin when it’s just the two of them, alone... David knows he can’t cry here. He gets up to leave the room with a murmured “excuse me for a minute, I need to take a phone call”. He walks to his office quickly, cursing himself for being so obvious. When he finally reaches the office, he closes the door gently and sits down at his desk, putting his head in his hands and letting a few tears spring free. Pretty soon, sobs are racking his body, and his head is on his desk, arms overtop in an almost protective position. He wishes more than anything that he could just cave in on himself, crumble away until he’s no longer a man but instead a ruined pile of what once was. He quietly cries and cries until he can’t anymore, until there’s nothing left but empty heaving and whimpering. After more than a few minutes, when he finally catches his breath, he figures he should probably get himself together and head back into the conference room. He checks his watch and realizes that the meeting is long over by now. He sits for another moment, wiping the tears from his face and wondering what he should do. 

“God, David,” a voice, barely above a whisper, struggles from the doorway. “God. I’m...” 

David sniffles and turns to find Brad at a loss for words, standing with only half of his body in their office, gripping the doorframe with his right hand. His brows are furrowed and his lips are drawn tight. David hadn’t heard the door open. Should’ve locked it. 

“It’s fine.” David forces a close-mouthed smile, trying his best not to look pained. 

“David, I-“

“I don’t want to talk about it.” The weak imitation of a smile fades from his face.

“I fucked up.”

“I said, I don’t-“ David stops himself, voice thinning. He refuses to break again. Not now. He can’t let Brad see him vulnerable. Not anymore. He clears his throat. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“David, please don’t make me beg.” But Brad is already begging. His expression is rife with hurt and worry, brows bunched together and lines creasing his face. All he wants right now is to talk this over, for David to hear him out, but David refuses. 

“Don’t do this. Do not do this.” David says as he stands and moves towards the doorway in an attempt to leave. Brad blocks the exit with his body - or tries to, anyway. 

“David, I fucked up, but I can explain — please, I’m-“ Brad pleads as David brushes past, gaze fixated ahead of him. Quickly, he walks to the elevator - leaving Brad in their office, standing on the threshold of what used to be a special shared space, a home they had made for themselves amidst the chaos of the office; the chaos of their lives. A place just for them, a place where they had shared secrets, laughed, cried, held each other, danced slowly during the late nights alone together. It wasn’t impressive, the little room, but it was quiet, safe, _theirs._ Now that’s all lost. 

David doesn’t feel like singing to himself as he takes the elevator down to the basement. Instead, feeling small and pathetic, he leans against the back wall and does his best to stifle more tears. 

He swipes his keycard and walks down the hall, knocking on Sue’s door when he reaches it. 

“Come in!” Her voice is muffled. David walks in to find Sue bustling about her broom closet of an office, shuffling paperwork and thick folders around. She stops to look at her visitor. “David! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hey… Brad, uh, Brad broke up with me last night.” He takes a seat in the chair in front of her desk, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying not to cry. She rushes over to bend down and envelop him in a hug for a long moment, and then holds his shoulders at arm’s length. 

“Oh, God, David. I’m so, so sorry. I had no idea. Why didn’t you text me?” She moves to sit on her desk. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t know what to do. It sounds stupid to say it now, but I didn’t think this would ever happen. I thought things were good. I don’t know, maybe I… Maybe I haven’t been spending as much time with him, or maybe I haven’t been communicating, or maybe I…” He begins to get choked up, “Maybe I’m just not good enough and he f-found someone b-better—“

“Hon, you can’t blame yourself. You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you keep trying to make up a reason. I think he must be dealing with something pretty significant. I’m not trying to make excuses for him - just trying to make it hurt a little less for you.” 

David sniffles. “Okay.” His voice is quiet, barely audible. 

“Now, why don’t you come on over to my place tonight and we can watch a movie and order dinner. I don’t want you to have to be alone.”

“That sounds nice. Thank you.”

… 

It’s around midnight now, and David is sitting in a t-shirt and jeans on the couch in his apartment, the television illuminating his face in the otherwise dark room - he had forgotten to turn on the lights when the sun went down after he got back from Sue’s. The TV is playing some show he’s not really paying attention to, some sitcom from the 90s. He spaced out maybe thirty minutes ago, deep in thought about the events of today, going over every single moment in minute detail, wishing he had done it all differently. A sudden knock on the door breaks him out of his trance. He gets up to answer, wondering who it could be as he opens it. 

It’s Brad. His eyes are red and glossy. He’s been crying.

“David.” He sounds relieved. Like he wasn’t expecting the door to open at all. On his face is the smallest of smiles. David doesn’t think he’s ever gotten used to Brad’s fleeting moments of vulnerability when he lets down his walls and asks David in. 

“Why are you here? It’s-“

“I know. It’s late. But you weren‘t answering your phone and I-“

“Stop.” He’s stern. “I don’t want you to explain, Brad. This hurts. You hurt me. I don’t want closure, I don’t want an explanation. I want you to leave me the hell alone.”

“Dave, please… Please. Don’t push me away.” Brad’s voice cracks. Frantically, his eyes search David’s, praying that he finds some sliver of understanding beneath the rubble of the hurt and anger. 

Suddenly, David sighs as his eyes close in resignation. 

“Fine. Fine. You can come in. Just…” He struggles to invent a barrier to place between the two of them, something to maintain some emotional distance. “Keep your shoes on.” A poor attempt. Truly. He flicks the light switch on and they both walk into the kitchen. David almost offers Brad a glass of water but stops himself. This isn’t the time to be hospitable. It’s not the time to be nice. Or forgiving. 

David stands with his back to the counter, hands gripping the edge.

“Well… What?” He decides he’ll humor Brad for now, at least until he gets fed up. Brad wrings his hands before shoving them into his pockets, staring at the floor. 

“I didn’t really tell you the whole story last night. It was wrong of me. I know. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop ever since. I… Look, David,” he looks up now, into David’s blue-blue eyes. “I took an offer from Montreal.”

“From… Montreal.”

Brad says nothing - he just presses his lips together as he watches the gears turn in David’s brain. 

“Brad. Why didn’t — why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, voice soft, searching. 

“I didn’t know how. I was scared... It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m sor-“

“How much did they offer you?” 

“What?” Brad is taken aback by David’s bluntness. 

“You heard me. How much?” A beat. “Brad, how much?” David’s voice wavers with a quiet rage. 

Silence. 

“Oh, my God-“

“David, I-“

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dave, please-“

“Tell me how much they offered you. Tell me. Right now. Because I sure as hell can tell you what it cost me, but it doesn’t seem like you care. If you ever even cared at all.”

“David. Stop.” Brad is desperate for forgiveness. A chance to explain himself. All he wants is to throw himself at David, cling to him; a wounded creature in need of comfort.

“Stop? You want me to stop? You come to my apartment in the middle of the night to tell me that it all came down to me or the money. And you chose the money. And… And how do you  _ expect _ me to feel? Did you think this was going to  _ help?  _ Did you think this would make me feel  _ better?  _ Because it doesn’t, Brad. It didn’t! I feel like shit. I feel fucking worthless. So thanks for coming over and explaining things to me, I  _ really _ appreciate it. I hope you have a great fucking time up in Montreal rolling around in cash all day with all the other corporate douchebags. I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine. God, does all of this really mean that little to you? Do I really mean… No. No. Don’t answer that.” David stops himself, but not before a single tear rolls down his cheek. Brad begins to reach out with a shaky hand, a pleading expression on his face - begging David to be vulnerable with him one last time, let him wipe away one last tear, forgive one last misdoing. 

But David steels himself, wiping away the tear with a harsh swipe of his hand, an indignant expression having settled across his face. 

“Dave-“

“Don’t.”

“Honey-“

“Get out. Get the hell out.”

The next day at work, Brad’s desk is empty. 

...

A year goes by. David lets himself grieve, feel lonely, feel hurt. He thinks of Brad often. He thinks of him when he wakes in the middle of the night, clutching a pillow to his chest. Every time he cooks dinner; every day on the drive to work. It’s different from his divorce. Harder to move on this time. David often wonders how a person  _ could  _ move on from someone who made him feel so cared for and loved even in the darkest quietest hours. But eventually, out of necessity, he starts to become almost-whole again. He starts to feel like himself again. The ache in his chest never really goes away, but it lessens, and that is enough. He goes on dates with a lot of different people. Sometimes he’ll go back to their place. He still can’t bring himself to ask anyone over to his. He doesn’t think about why. He hasn’t changed much, but it’s harder for him to let people in, and he doesn’t talk about his feelings like he used to. 

…

“Okay Kristen, what do you have for us today?” David is leading Friday’s general meeting in the conference room. Jo sits at the table typing out notes while Ian paces. And then there’s Kristen: the panic-hire who was supposed to take over Brad’s position temporarily, but no one ever found a replacement. Sure, she’s a little out of touch in terms of the gaming world, and she can come off as being a little too blunt sometimes, and the pantsuits she wears are a little out of place in the office, but she knows what she’s doing. That, and Jo begged David to let her stay (he’s beginning to suspect that Jo has a little bit of a crush. Or she just  _ really  _ admires Kristen on a professional level).

“Well, if you take a look at the data I’ve prepared for you,” she gestures to the screen in the corner of the room. It displays a graph that indicates an upward trend in sales. “Frankly, I don’t see the point in creating a new stream of revenue, especially now. With all of the new players, in addition to all of the DLC we’ve released in the past six months, the game is making more than enough money.”

“You’re so right,” Jo is sitting with her head propped up on her hand, ignoring her laptop entirely. There’s a dreamy look in her eyes. 

“Uh... Thank you, Jo. David?”

David fidgets with his Rubix cube and scrutinizes the charts on the screen. 

“Are you sure there’s really nothing? I mean, I know we’re doing fine, but you don’t have any ideas? Not even just for fun?”

“For... fun. Well, this is a business, David. You know that. You — you do know that, right? From a financial standpoint, it really doesn’t make sense to do things ‘just for fun’ when-“

“Well, we could just bring it up with Montreal on Monday.” Ian speaks suddenly, no longer pacing and instead standing with one hand on his beard and the other on his hip. 

“Montreal.” David inquires, but it’s more of a statement. Almost an expression of disbelief. “What, do we — do we have a call with them or something?” He’s praying it’s just a call. 

“No, they’re… coming out here for meetings all week. David, did you not know about this? Come on, man, you’re the one who sent out the email about this in the first place!” 

“M- Montreal… For the  _ week _ ? Oh, God.” David whispers as he raises a hand to his mouth. 

“Oh, I sent that email out. And I’m the one who talked to them on the phone about it. I always talk to them on the phone because David doesn’t want to.” Jo boasts. 

“Wow! Great initiative, Jo. Really. Proud of you. Wait- David, you don’t answer the phone?” Ian is incredulous. This would almost be funny if it weren’t for the sinking feeling in David’s stomach. Well, Jo kind of thinks it’s funny, anyway. And Kristen kind of thinks these people are insane. 

“No. Well, I — I just… You know, it’s —“ David struggles to explain himself, running a frantic hand through his hair. 

“Yeah, it’s so weird. David always makes me answer the phone when they call, but I have to act like I’m a secretary or something, and he makes me email them, but he says that I have to pretend to be him. So then I figured if I’m doing that then why not send out an email to  _ our  _ office as David, too? It was kinda fun, actually.”

“I’m glad you had fun, Jo. That’s important. That’s what it’s all about. But David, come on, buddy.” Ian is doing his best to be gentle with his coworker, his friend. 

“You gotta do your job! That’s why we have you around!” He offers a halfhearted smile. 

“Yeah, I… I’m sorry about that. I’m working on it— Wait. Jo, you didn’t want to  _ tell me  _ that Montreal would be visiting?”

“Oh. I forgot.” 

“You f— you forgot.” David sighs, running another hand through his hair. “Of course you did. Okay! Okay.” There’s a bit of a silence in the room as David tries to compose himself. 

“Well!” Ian claps his hands together. “Thank you so much for sharing, Kristen, and thank you, Jo, for being such a hard worker. Never stop going that extra mile. And David, buddy,” Ian pauses for a moment, and when he speaks again his voice is a bit softer. “Don’t worry about it, okay? My door is always open. Stop by once in a while. Okay, meeting adjourned.”

“Um. Thanks, Ian. Wait. Wait. This isn’t your meeting to adj-“

“Meeting adjourned everyone! Thank you so much. David, a word?” Ian shoots a glance towards Kristen and Jo. Kristen gets up to leave, Jo trailing behind, trying to match her pace and asking some inane question about monetization and finances. Ian closes the door behind them as David melts into his seat, head in hands. 

“D-man, buddy. What’s going on?” He takes a seat across the table from David. “You know, it’s been a whole year. I know it hasn’t been easy, but I’m worried about how it’s affecting your job.”

“Ian… You — you know I’m the boss, right?” If David is being honest with himself, he feels belittled. Undermined, almost. But he knows Ian has a point. 

“I’m coming to you as a friend. I want you to know I’m here for you, David.”

“I know that. I appreciate that. I just… I don’t know if I can do it, Ian. I don’t know if I can stand to see him.”

“Even after all this time?”

“It’s only been a year. I don’t know. I’ve tried so hard to move on, and I think I have, mostly, but… But there’s a part of me that’s still stuck back there in that office with him.” David pauses, feeling embarrassed and slightly overwhelmed. He just wants to go back to his office and decompress. He stands to leave, and Ian mirrors him. “Look, I’m really sorry about the whole email thing. It won’t happen again, okay? Thank you for talking to me.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. And David,” Ian adds before David walks out the door, “you know that he would never be the one calling anyway, right? That’s… Someone else handles that.”

“Yeah. I know. But it still makes me nervous.” 

Ian nods sympathetically. 

…

David sits on the couch in his apartment, about to load up a game that Dana and Rachel had recommended to him yesterday at work. It’s just after dinner on Saturday. He’s been trying to relax, trying to prepare himself for what he can only assume is going to be the worst week of his life. He can’t seem to distract himself enough from the worst-case scenarios that fog his brain. He hopes that maybe a new game will help, but in the back of his mind, he knows that it won’t. 

…

Monday morning is, in David’s opinion, hell. He’s been nauseous with anxiety since the second he woke up and it’s only gotten worse as time crawls on towards midday, when the people from Montreal are supposed to show. He’s been trying to keep his mind occupied, but he can’t focus on his work or any game for more than five minutes, and he figures that he should stop bothering Sue after his third visit to the basement in just as many hours. He’s decided to sit at his desk and listen to music as he pretends to shuffle paperwork around in an attempt to appear busy to any passersby. 

After doing this for half an hour or so, David hears the typical quiet din of the office lessen to near silence as the elevator dings. In an instant, his heart drops and his blood runs ice cold. He stares at his keyboard, unsure of what to do, unsure if he can even move at all. 

“Hey! Welcome!” He hears Ian, who he can only assume is standing on the platform outside of his own office. The distant murmurs of him greeting the corporate employees are only made more distant by the ringing in David’s ears. He hears a quiet knock against the open door and turns to find Poppy giving him a meek smile. 

“Hi, David,” her voice is soft, gentle. “Ian asked me to let you know that the people from Montreal are here. He wants you to come say hello.” A lopsided and sympathetic smile finds its way across her face. It’s been difficult for her too - in a different way, but difficult nonetheless. She and David have found solace in each other over the past year, each of them seeing the same sadness in each other’s eyes, each of them lamenting the loss of someone who was important to them. Someone they thought they were important to. It helped each of them to know it wasn’t something they had to deal with alone. 

“Yeah, I’ll just be a minute. Thanks, Pop. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. See you out there.” She regards him for another moment before giving him a quick thumbs-up and turning to leave. 

David takes a few seconds to prepare, telling himself it’s going to be okay. He misses when he had someone else to tell him that. And now that someone is supposed to be standing several feet outside of his office, and he isn’t the person who’s going to say those things anymore, and David doesn’t know for sure that it’s going to be okay after all. He stands up, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans, and heads for the door. 

His tunnel vision lessens as he approaches the group of corporate suits standing in the middle of the office, noticing a certain absence. He shakes hands and exchanges pleasantries, then takes his place next to Poppy as Ian and everyone else converse. His polite smile and forward-facing gaze are unmoving as he leans down towards her. 

“Not coming?” He asks quietly out of the side of his mouth. 

“Ha. We should be so lucky,” she whispers. “He’s just running late, I guess.”

“Too important for us, huh? I guess when you move to Montreal your time is more valuable,” David half-jokes. Poppy laughs quietly. 

…

  
  


Around hour two of the day’s meeting, David decides to give himself a break. He needs it. All the suits do is drone on and on about God knows what and he knows he should be paying attention, but there’s just too much going on in his brain right now. He figures he can read over Jo’s notes later. He quietly gets up from his seat and heads to the kitchen, humming to himself as he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. He hears someone approaching around the corner, and then a voice a few feet away. 

“Hey man, have you seen-” David and the speaker turn to face each other at the same time. “Oh. Uh. Hi, David.” 

David feels like he’s going to collapse in on himself - his blood runs cold and everything feels heavy for a moment. All he can do is stand and stare and try to keep from going slack jawed. Brad looks… he looks almost the same as he always did, David supposes, but he had forgotten over the past year exactly what that meant. His hair is a little longer, complexion a little more tanned. David’s eyes trace over the perfect curls and waves at Brad’s temples, the freckles scattered across his nose, and eventually settle on Brad’s own dark and searching eyes. It’s unclear what, exactly, he’s searching for - what he’s trying to find in David’s expression. Brad isn’t sure either. Deep down, he’s scared. They both are. David clears his throat.

“Hey… Brad.” A pause. “The meeting’s in the conference room,” David nods in the room’s direction. He feels like screaming. 

“No, I know where the meeting is. The walls are made of glass. I was looking for Poppy, actually.” Brad almost looks awkward, hands shoved into his pockets and shoulders tensed. He’s wearing a suit, David notices, and while that’s typical of someone who works at the corporate office, he can’t help but feel lucky that he gets to see Brad all dressed up. He’d always been a fan of Brad in suits, even long before they were together. David always wished they weren’t reserved only for office holiday parties and the occasional funeral. 

“Poppy? She’s not in the meeting? She must have left after I did.” They both glance around the office, trying to spot her. Not seeing her anywhere, Brad turns back to David.

“Well. Thanks anyway,” Brad intones flatly, lingering for only a moment before disappearing behind the corner again.

David doesn’t see him for the rest of the day. 

…

“David? David.” Sue waves her hand in front of David’s face. It’s Tuesday morning, and he hasn’t even been up to his own office yet. He can’t seem to work up the courage. 

“Sorry.”

“Lost you for a minute! You started daydreaming again. What were you thinkin’ about up there?” She taps the side of her blonde head with a finger. 

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m — I’m petrified, Sue. I don’t know what to say to him. I just freeze.”

“Well, hon, I don’t think you  _ need _ to say anything to him. You don’t owe him a thing. Don’t be afraid to give him the cold shoulder.” 

“You don’t think I should... forgive him?”

“Honestly, David? No.” Her voice is a bit lower now - more serious. “I know you miss him. I can see it in your eyes when you talk about him. And I know how I usually am, what I would usually say… But he hurt you, David. I’m not so quick to forgive people who hurt my friends. And I don’t think you should be so quick to forgive people who hurt  _ you _ .”

“Thanks, Sue.”

“Now, why don’t you head on upstairs and get some work done. You’re welcome to visit anytime, but I don’t want you to spend all day down here worrying. I would visit, but… You know. Darn keycard.” She gives David a sad smile as she wiggles the plastic card between her fingers. He knows how lonely she gets down here. 

“Yeah. Alright. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, David.”

…

David sits at his desk, doing his best to keep busy - he’s really just switching from tab to tab and program to program, his mind never settling on anything. He’s elsewhere right now, planning out in explicit detail what he’ll say the next time he sees Brad. Jo sits at what used to be Brad’s desk, scrolling aimlessly on her laptop and intermittently spinning in her chair. 

“David. David. David.” 

“If you tell me you’re bored  _ one more time _ … I’ll… I’ll make you sit in Poppy’s office,” David threatens, still turned towards his computer but his head thrown back in exasperation. 

“Ugh. Never mind.”

The atmosphere has been different around the office the past two days - everyone has been on their best behavior, keeping to themselves. None of the typical shenanigans that David always somehow lets them get away with. Everyone has been dressing a little bit nicer, too, waking up earlier each morning to spend a little more time getting ready. Not that there’s anything at stake, really - everyone is just on edge around the corporate suits. 

There’s another lull in their little office. Until Jo starts again.

“David. David.” She’s much quieter this time, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Jo.  _ Cut it out _ .”

“Uh…” She sounds unsure of something.

David simply decides to ignore her. He hasn’t tried that yet. 

“Um. David!” A harsh whisper. Then, “OH! Hi Brad!” She almost yells while pronouncing each word deliberately, an attempt at subtly alerting David to Brad’s presence in their doorway. David turns around in his chair. 

“Hey, Jo!” Brad chuckles a bit. “I like what you’ve done with the place. I see you’ve taken my desk.”

“Yeah. You’re dead to all of us.”

Brad laughs again - a genuine laugh. He approaches the desk and stoops down a bit. Quietly, he says, 

“Listen, do you think you could give us a minute alone? Promise I’ll be quick. I just need to have a word with David.”

“Um, I don’t think David would want that.” Her voice is still a few decibels too loud. They both turn to look at David, waiting for a response. 

David says nothing. Just turns around in his chair to continue his busywork. After a few seconds that feel like hours, he hears a sigh as Brad’s footsteps trail out. 

…

At lunchtime, David and Poppy walk to a little cafe just down the street from the office. They’re both too anxious to order anything more than fancy coffees that they hardly touch. David feels bad - not only is Poppy a wreck because Brad’s in town, but she’s crawling out of her skin at the thought of corporate analyzing her every move, every word. So David figured it would do them some good to get out for a bit. 

“It’s weird,” Poppy says while staring out the window at the street. “It’s just weird.” David already knows exactly what she’s talking about.

“Have you talked to him at all?”

“No. Thank God. I heard he was looking for me yesterday. Michelle told me. I was hiding out in the basement.”

“You’re gonna have to talk to him at some point, Pop. I am too. Wait-- Are you and Michelle…?”

“Yes. Well, No. Yes…? Doesn’t matter. God, what are we going to do, David? It’s only Tuesday! I…” Her lip begins to quiver. “I can’t do this!”

“Hey, hey, Pop… It’s alright.” David begins to extend a hand out to her shoulder, but stops himself when she begins to talk again, having composed herself a bit. 

“It’s just… He was like a brother to me. You know that - we’ve had this conversation so many times. And then he left, like he never cared at all, and now he’s trying to act like he cares again. Why would he… I just don’t understand.” 

“I don’t get it either. He tried asking Jo to leave so he could talk to me.”

“Today?”

“Yeah.”

“What about yesterday?”

“It’s funny actually, he asked me where you were and then left.”

“God, what’s his  _ problem _ ?”

“I know, right?” David takes a sip of his drink. 

“You have foam in your mustache.”

“Wh-...? Oh. Thank you.”

…

David sits alone in his office in the afternoon, worrying - not uncommon for him to do, but it’s getting overwhelming, and he fears it’s only going to get worse as the week goes on. He’s worried about Brad being here, he’s worried about himself, he’s worried about Poppy. He knows he won’t be able to get much work done, he won’t be able to focus. His mind drifts to Brad constantly. He hates him. He misses him. He loves him, still. 

…

It’s dinnertime now, and David hums to himself as he cooks pasta for one. He knows how pathetic it sounds. He figures he’s already been sad about it enough over the course of the past year, but he allows himself to feel that sadness again. The pain almost feels fresh. Almost feels like it did the first time he ate dinner without Brad. At first he supposed it was no different from when he got divorced from his wife - it hurt, he was lonely. But the first time he was without Brad, it was… it was worse. It hurt in a new way. Without his wife, it was lonely. Pitiful. But without Brad, it felt like something had been ripped from him, a core part of who he was gone in an instant. And after a while, like the ghost of someone was still lingering - just beside him, just out of reach. 

But now, even though it hurts almost the same, he knows he’s alone. This is it. No ghost - utterly alone. He wonders if he should adopt a cat. 

…

“...so as you can see, our data suggests that we need to re-conceptualize these specific areas so as to…”

David is nearly bored to death. It’s too early in the morning for him to really process what’s going on, and he feels like he’s been in this meeting forever. Every few minutes he lets himself get lost in thought for a moment as a simple means of entertainment - wondering when he’ll be able to visit Sue downstairs again, what he should do for dinner tonight, whether Poppy is doing okay—

Until the door opens and Brad steps in, coffee cup in hand and smug smirk in place. He takes his place standing against the wall with a couple of his coworkers. Without noticing, David begins bouncing his leg and tapping his pen against the table even harder than he was before, fighting the urge to simply walk out of the room. After a minute Ian reaches out a hand to steady David’s pen and when David turns to look at him, Ian raises his eyebrows as if to ask,  _ are you okay? _

David furrows his brows, not really getting it. 

“Are you okay?” Ian leans in and whispers as the suit drones on in the background. 

“Think I just need some air,” David whispers back, looking at Ian with wide eyes. 

“Yeah. Yeah, no problem. Let me just—“ he turns to the rest of the room. “Excuse me? Look everyone, we’re getting a lot of great work done here, very productive. Loving what I’m hearing. But listen, me and David here are just gonna step out and talk some things over and then we’ll get back to you. Let you know what we think. Thanks so much.” Ian pushes back from the table and walks out of the room, David following behind in close succession. They head down the hall, walking aimlessly. 

“I’m sorry, Ian. I just—“

“Hey, I totally get it. No need to apologize. Pop is having a hard time, too. I’ve been talking to her about it.”

“And what about you? How are you holding up?”

“Oh, the guy’s an asshole. I can’t wait until he’s out of my office again.”

“Well…  _ My  _ office, technically— No, it’s fine. I get it.”

“Right, right.  _ Your _ office. You know, David, I think the one good thing he ever did around here - well, he was pretty good at his job - but the one  _ really _ good thing he ever did was teach you how to demand a little more respect. Stick up for yourself. And you softened him up a bit, too. But after he left, all of that kind of went away. I just think you deserve more than you ask of anyone.” He looks at David, waiting for a response and hoping his words are sinking in. David nods and thinks for a moment. 

“Would you… Would you ever want him to come back?”

“Oh, God. I think it would be more trouble than it’s worth. I don’t know. I guess it might give us all a chance to heal. I mean, some of us are fine without him. But I know that some of us…” He pauses for a while as he looks at David again. “You know,  _ Poppy… _ Never fully healed. Even if  _ she _ … says she has.”

“Yeah. Poppy.”

“Yeah.”

“I am worried about her. Really.”

“Me too. She won’t shut up about it,” Ian says before realizing that maybe it’s time to be a little more gentle. “Well… She won’t stop talking about it. I told her she can’t hide from him forever.”

“And?”

“She said she’s willing to die trying.” Ian smiles thinking about her stubbornness, her strong will. “I told her that’s no way to go about life, but she just won’t listen.”

“I don’t really blame her.”

“I think of all people, you need to be the one to face him. You need the closure, David. I can tell you need it.” They stop walking. 

“I don’t know. I guess so. I don’t feel like I can.”

“At least think about it. We should head back.”

...

“Can I give you a refill?” Sue and David sit across from each other, teacups and saucers sitting on her desk between them. She’s holding the teapot, which, she explained to David, is a family heirloom passed down to her from her grandmother. Over the past few years, it’s been a bit of a routine for David and Sue to have tea during lunch on Wednesdays - a means of catching up amidst their busy workdays. David used to feel silly, a grown man attending a two person tea party, but now it’s his favorite part of each week. 

“Yes, thank you so much.” He continues as Sue pours his tea, “So, as I was saying - it’s just… so  _ suffocating _ being in the same room as him. That meeting… I had to get out of there. I’m just glad Ian was cool about it. Even if he did make a bit of a scene.” 

“Aw. I don’t get up there much - or ever - but I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you, David. With…  _ him…  _ being back.” 

“I was talking to Ian about it.”

“What?”

About Brad coming back.”

“Coming back? Do you  _ want _ him to come back?”

David sighs and glances down at his teacup. 

“I— I don’t know. I mean... I think it would be hard for a while. But I think it would be worth a shot.” David lifts his gaze from the cup in his hand to look at Sue. Her eyebrows are raised and her jaw is set. 

“David. You can’t be serious.”

“What, you’re not mad, are you?” 

“Oh, of course not,” she softens a bit, sounding genuine. “Don’t be silly. I just… I’m not sure I understand. I figured he was in Montreal for good.”

“No, I’m- I’m sure he is. I just miss him, Sue. I’m still so angry at him.  _ So  _ angry. But I miss him more than anything. I thought that I was almost over him, but seeing him again… It’s just…” He shakes his head. “And — and I’m sure he has no plans to come back, I’m sure this weekend he’ll be going home to a boyfriend in some fancy downtown apartment. But I think if he did come back… I wouldn’t be opposed to it, that’s all.”

“All I ask is that you protect yourself, David. Protect your heart. I can’t see you get hurt again - put up some walls if you need to. Just for the rest of the week.”

“I know, I know. I’m trying.”

“I just want you to be happy,” she gives him a bittersweet smile, her eyebrows drawn together. 

David sighs again, then smiles. 

“I don’t know what I would do without you, Sue.” Hearing this, Sue’s smile grows warmer. 

“And I don’t know what I would do without you. Your little visits keep me sane.” Then, as an afterthought, “You know, I almost wish you would take all that anger and hurt and just… just ball it up and throw it in his face. Show him how you feel.”

“Heh. Me too.” But David is conflicted. He wants to give Brad a piece of his mind, sure, but he can’t ignore the way that his whole body secretly aches when Brad walks past, how badly he wants to throw himself into his arms. But he knows that’s gone. That part of his life is over now, and it has been for some time. He can’t get it back no matter how badly he wants it, no matter how hard he tries. 

...

After his visit with Sue, David still has some free time before he has to be in the conference room. He decides to take a seat at the table in the kitchen area, playing a game on his phone. He appreciates the quiet around him, the muted clacking of keyboards, the murmurs of employees who are too scared to speak above a whisper while the suits are here. He’s scared, too. 

“Hey, is this seat taken?” David looks up from his phone to see Brad, his hand on the back of the only other chair at the table. It was less of an actual question and more of a way for Brad to let David know,  _ hey, by the way, I’m here, and I want you to let me sit with you.  _

Instead of leaving like a frightened animal, the way he usually would, David opts for intimidation. Or, at least, his very best attempt at intimidation, which consists of staying in his seat and silently gesturing to the chair across from him as if he doesn’t care enough to actually speak.  _ Please, by all means. Be my guest.  _

They sit for a few minutes, Brad occasionally glancing around the office, David’s gaze fixated on his phone, an obvious attempt at ignoring Brad. The silence between them is thick, oppressive.

“God, I don’t think I can sit through another meeting,” Brad attempts after a little while longer, wanting to lessen the tension. Setting his phone down, David takes the bait, albeit reluctantly. 

“I usually just let myself zone out. Jo takes notes for me. It doesn’t really matter, anyway, because we’re doing so well here.” David crosses his arms and gives a self-satisfied grin. 

“Yeah, I know. I did that.” Brad gloats, a smug smirk creeping across his face, almost mimicking David. David’s face drops. 

“What are you talking about?” He’s pissed that Brad would take credit for all of his hard work. He has to admit, though, the past year has gone remarkably well. Brad’s smile fades and he rolls his eyes, annoyed at having to explain himself. He huffs. 

“You never noticed? I spend most of my time up there pulling strings just so that everything here goes smoothly.” He’s overly nonchalant. 

“Why? So that… So that we owe you? That's fucked up, Brad. Really.”

Brad furrows his brows and presses his lips together in consternation. He isn’t sure he’s ready to admit the truth. Not today, at least. The truth being, of course, that he misses David more than anything, that he’s been desperate to maintain any semblance of contact with him and the office over the past year. He’d figured that was the only way to do it. He’d figured that if he could make everything a little easier for David, if he pulled the right strings and manipulated the right people, that at the end of the day when David thanked God for all of their successes and triumphs at the office, he’d really be thanking Brad. And that was something. 

“...Yeah. If I ever need a favor… I know who to call.” His response is halfhearted - he doesn’t have the energy to put on the facade anymore today. The Brad Persona that he’s spent almost his whole life building, the skin he slips into every time he leaves the house or answers a phone call or breaks up with the love of his life or does anything else that secretly scares him. He almost wishes that David would see through him again the way he used to, just for a moment. He wishes that he would just pry a little bit in an attempt to find the real reason Brad loses sleep at night, but David is oblivious. 

“Wow. You know, you really haven’t changed. Still an asshole.” David sits back in his chair, regarding Brad with disgust. 

“Yeah, I guess… I guess so.” It hurts. He stands up to leave. “I’ll see you.”

…

David knocks on the open door of Poppy’s office, peeking his head in. 

“Hey, David. You can come in. What’s up?” She stops typing on her computer and looks up, smiling. He walks over to the couch and sits. 

“Did you ever end up talking things over with Brad?”

Poppy’s smile fades to a more sentimental expression, indicating that things are good. Or at least, not as bad. She nods.

“Yeah, we talked about it. Michelle told him where I was. Oh-- he didn’t pay her, she just thought I should talk to him. I was really mad at him at first. I didn’t want to hear him out.”

“But you did?”

“Yeah. He was really apologetic. I could tell he meant it. I think deep down he’s a good guy. I’ve always thought that. I don’t know if I forgive him. I’m still mad at him. But it was good to at least talk.”

“But you’re feeling better about it? What else did he say?”

“He said that he regrets leaving and he’s always seen me as a little sister. And he said one of his biggest regrets is abandoning me the way he did. And that he’s sorry and he doesn’t know if there’s anything he can do to fix it but he’s always here for me. I put his number back in my phone. He said I can call anytime.” She thinks. “I don’t know if I will. I still think he’s an asshole. But it was nice to finally hear all of that. I could tell he meant it, but even if he didn’t, I think it still would have felt nice.”

“I’m glad, Pop. I’m glad you got the closure.”

“Talk to him.”

“What?”

“Talk to him, David. I promise you’ll feel better. Even if you don’t believe what he’s telling you, you’ll feel better.”

“I have!” He’s defensive. “I’ve spoken to him.”

“No,  _ talk _ to him. Talk it all over. Get  _ closure _ . ”

“I… I don’t know if I can.”

“David, will you try? For me? So we can both move on from this chapter of our lives for good? I’m ready to heal, David. But it’s important to me that you heal, too. Just let him apologize to you.  _ Talk to him. _ ”

David sighs. “Fine, I’ll… I’ll try.”

…

It’s Thursday morning and David is stuck in yet another conference, what feels like the millionth one this week. One of the people from Montreal stands in front of the screen giving a monotone presentation about something utterly unimportant. David’s skin is crawling. He’s itching to jump out of his chair, to be anywhere but here. Brad sits across from him, leaning back with his arms crossed, eyes tracing the patterns in the ceiling. He clearly thinks he has somewhere better to be, too. 

David hears the presenter say something about pamphlets and watches as she sets a small stack of them on the table. He reaches for one. Without looking, Brad reaches too.

Their fingers brush, only for a brief moment. David feels a shock through his arm, like it’s been submerged in ice cold water. He wonders if Brad feels it too. They both pull their hands away in an instant, saying nothing.

David has a knot in his stomach for the rest of the meeting. And so does Brad. 

After the meeting is adjourned, David walks to the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee, only to find Brad already there talking to Dana and Rachel. As David approaches, he hears them saying goodbye, giving Brad a “good seeing you” and a “see you later, man” respectively. They walk away holding hands and talking quietly. Brad turns, noticing David. 

Trying to be casual and failing immediately, David says, “Sorry about the-- in the meeting… I didn’t mean to… Um. You know. Sorry.” David walks to the counter and begins to pour himself a cup of coffee. 

“Huh? Oh. It’s fine.” Brad gives David a close-mouthed smile, unsure of how to break the tension. He watches intently as David focuses on stirring in the sugar, silently remembering and missing the mornings that David would make a cup for each of them with so much care and love. He wants to say something, wants to ask David if he remembers. And he wants to tell David that he still loves him. That he can’t sleep, can’t eat, and after all this time, David is all Brad ever thinks about. He wants to tell him that everything he does, he does for him. The words sit in his chest like they’ve been begging to be spoken aloud for a lifetime. And Brad would be happy to say it, happy to say more, if he needed - happy to tell David of his devotion: how every time Brad looks at his own hand he pictures David’s, how he half-expects David to be standing there every time he turns a corner, how he stares at his ceiling late each night and imagines David’s bare shoulder brushing against his. 

“Remember when I used to make us coffee?” David looks up at Brad, speaking without really thinking. He laughs to himself. “You were always so particular about how it was made. I’m sure whoever makes your coffee these days doesn’t make it as well as I did.”

“Um… I’m single.” 

“Oh! I was talking about more of, like… An assistant or something. You know, with all that extra Montreal money.” Brad feels stupid. Of course David doesn’t care about whether or not he’s dating. “But… That’s good to know, I guess. Well I don’t mean-- I’m just saying… Me too.” Okay, maybe Brad doesn’t feel so stupid. David’s words hang in the air as he continues to stir his coffee until Brad can think of something to say.

“Okay… Cool.” And then, “And I do remember. I don’t think  _ I _ can even make my own coffee the way that you did.” Hearing this, David smiles to himself, then looks up again. The two of them consider each other for a moment, missing each other, resenting the wall built up between them, until David breaks the silence. 

“Well… I should get back to my office. I’ll see you around.” He walks away before Brad can say anything. Brad just stands, watching David walk away, lost in thought. He wants to run after him. He can’t.

…

  
  


“I want to be with him.” It feels like a weight off of his shoulders to finally say the words, to release them into the air. 

“ _ David!  _ Not really, right? I mean, think of how he made you feel. How he  _ still _ makes you feel.” Sue tries to reason with David, hoping he comes to his senses. They’re sitting in her office, running out the clock at the end of the day.

“I miss him.”

“I know that. But don’t be silly, David.” 

“I’m not being silly. I miss him. I know he used to be an asshole, but something… Something changed. He’s more vulnerable now, I guess. His eyes are… gentler? He’s more soft spoken. When he looks at me, I… I get this indescribable feeling. The same one I always got. He still makes me feel like that after all this time. He still makes me angry… but… I want to be with him and he’s leaving tomorrow. I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I really don’t. I’m worried that you’re going to get hurt again.” She tilts her head and looks at David with wide eyes, her brows bunched together. 

“Sue. I can take care of myself. I promise.”

...

David turns off the car engine and sighs to himself, a mixture of relief and dread bubbling in his chest. It’s finally Friday. One last day of having to deal with Montreal. And Brad. He reaches over to the passenger seat to grab his bag, gets out of the car, and makes his way to the elevator. He whistles to himself, the reverberations carrying throughout the cement garage. The air feels different today - lighter, almost. One last day, he reminds himself again. And then it’s over. He steps into the elevator, swipes his card, and presses the button for the fifth floor. 

“Wait! Wait!” Brad’s voice echoes through the garage as his quickening footsteps draw nearer to the elevator. David figures Brad doesn’t recognize him, or else he would have just waited or taken the stairs. David holds the door open anyway. “Thanks, Dave,” he says without actually looking. Oh. Brad did recognize him. He steps into the elevator, standing so his shoulder is a mere few inches away from David’s. 

“No problem.” David is looking at the floor, but he feels Brad’s eyes on him. So he bites the bullet and looks to Brad, who suddenly pretends to study a spot on the closing elevator door in front of him. Brad’s hair is windblown, his jacket slightly askew after running from his car. David bites back the urge to adjust it for him. Some part of David is still indignant, still lost, still yearning. It’s that part of him that won’t let him look away, won’t let him back down when Brad finally turns to face him again. 

“What,” Brad attempts a laugh, trying to lighten the mood, “is there something on my—“ he’s cut off suddenly as David, overcome by desperation, crashes their lips together -  _ hard _ . He brings his hands up to tangle in Brad’s hair. Brad kisses back, just as fiercely, hands balling up David’s shirt at his hips. He backs himself into the wall, pulling David with him. 

“God, I miss you. I miss you every day,” Brad murmurs against David’s lips between kisses. 

“I hate you. And I miss you too,” David breathes, wringing Brad’s tie with one hand. “You’re the worst,” he adds, before kissing him one last time. 

They press their foreheads together, trying to catch their breath before facing their coworkers. The elevator dings, and they untangle themselves from each other just as the door opens. They do their best to walk out as if nothing happened, but Brad’s hair is a bit disheveled and David’s face is pink, his shirt coming untucked. 

“See you in the, uhh, meeting?” Brad tries to act aloof, but his heart is racing. He adjusts his tie while glancing around. There’s a little more urgency in his step - or maybe it’s elation. Exhilaration. 

“Whatever.” David doesn’t even bother to look over his shoulder at Brad. His heart is racing, too. He smiles to himself as he quickens his pace towards his office. 

The final meeting of the day, of the week, is too drawn out and ultimately unnecessary, David decides as he sits, bored, tapping his pen against his leg. Brad left three minutes ago to go God knows where.  _ He had the right idea getting out of here _ , David thinks. 

Feeling his phone vibrate in his shirt pocket, David quickly takes it out to turn it off. He notices the text he received, taking a moment to look at the phone number - there’s no contact attached. After a moment, he recognizes it to be Brad’s. Glancing up to make sure no one notices, he unlocks his phone to read the message.  _ Meet me in the basement in five minutes.  _

His insides are a flurry of excitement and nervousness for the following four minutes and 59 seconds. He fakes a phone call, trying his best to be convincing but not really caring that much. He takes the elevator down to the basement, wondering what Brad’s planning. What he wants to talk to him about. 

David stands in the hallway, waiting, wondering what’s going to happen next. He has to admit that the not-knowing is a bit thrilling. After a minute or two, he hears the elevator ding, and the doors open, and out walks Brad, his step urgent. Brad takes David by the wrist and, looking both ways, pulls him into the nearest room, an empty office. Pulling the door closed behind them, Brad ambushes David with kisses as David tries to kiss back and flick the lightswitch on at the same time. David’s back is against the door, his hands clutching Brad’s face as Brad’s hands grip David’s waist, pressing their bodies together. 

“How did you even get down here? It’s not like you still have your card,” David asks, breath shaky as Brad trails kisses down his neck. Not stopping, Brad pulls his old keycard from his pocket, holding it up between his index and middle finger before putting it away again. “Oh,” David laughs. Brad giggles against David’s neck. He moves back up to David's mouth. After a moment David pulls back as much as the space between Brad and the door allows him. “I wish you hadn’t waited so long to do this.”

“I wish  _ you  _ hadn’t waited so long to kiss me the way you did this morning. You’ve been so mean to me all week,” Brad teases, resting their foreheads together. 

“I learned it from you,” David replies. 

“Do you really hate me? In the elevator, you said that you hate me.” Brad runs his thumb back and forth across David’s cheekbone. 

“No. I’m still mad at you,” David grins, “but I could never really hate you.” 

“I’m glad.” Brad pauses, thinking for a moment. “We should probably go. They’re going to be wondering where we are,” Brad doesn’t step back - instead, he waits for David’s response. 

“Just one more second? I just want one more second together.” David pleads as he brushes Brad’s curls off of his forehead with care and adjusts them to frame his face. 

“Okay. One more second.” Brad kisses David once gently before resting his head on David’s shoulder as they embrace. David’s hand cradles the back of Brad’s neck, his thumb rubbing small circles into the space behind Brad’s ear. 

Brad leaves first, letting David wait for another five minutes before he returns to the meeting as if nothing happened, and they sit across from each other, sharing a secret. 

...

Hearing a knock on the open door of his office, David looks over his shoulder. 

“Hey.” It’s Brad, poking his head into the office. He notices Jo isn’t there. 

“Hi, you can come in.” David finishes typing his email as Brad steps in, closing the door behind him and taking a seat behind his old desk. David takes off his glasses and turns to face Brad. “What’s up?”

“Does it feel emptier in here? Bigger?” The question is raw, candid. “My office up in Montreal… It’s about the same size. But it feels massive.” David thinks for a moment. 

“Yeah. Um… My apartment, too. There’s too much space.” He laughs a bit at the irony, Brad cracking a grin, both of them knowing how modest David’s apartment is. But his answer is truthful. 

“Yeah… Mine too.” Brad pauses, running an idle finger across the desk’s edge. He swallows nervously. “You should visit sometime. Come up for a week or something. I would love to show you around.” He means it, but the invitation is empty anyway, something in him knowing David will say no. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I get so busy around here. And I’m sure everyone would lose their heads without me.” David smiles earnestly. Brad smiles back. 

“Yeah. You’re right. They need you around here.” He hopes his voice doesn’t give away how sad he is. How much he wishes David would just take a chance. Say yes. He shakes his head. “You haven’t changed much.” He doesn’t know why he says it. He still can’t tell whether or not it’s true. David is still David, but something is different — he has a bit more of a backbone now, he’s not always so weak. Brad is unsure how to feel. He settles on feeling like he missed out, like maybe it’s his fault, like he wishes he was different now, too. Stronger, maybe. 

Brad knows that he hasn’t grown, hasn’t changed. Or rather, he has grown  _ around  _ his grief and longing, the pain becoming embedded behind the false walls he has built for himself. He tries to act tough, arrogant, detached, but he feels so small and weak. He’s never been lonelier. He doesn’t pick up the phone, doesn’t sleep with other people, doesn’t make plans. He doesn’t even leave the apartment much, aside from when he has to go to work. He does his best to put on a stoic face for his coworkers, for himself when he gets home at the end of the day and can’t bear to be around himself. The regret has eaten him alive. He  _ is _ different, now, he’s realized. He’s more fragile. A bird with a broken wing. 

“I hope not. I never really cared much for change.” David gives Brad a meaningful look. They both know what he’s referring to. 

“I know… I wish I had stayed. I really do. I know I made a mistake.” There’s a heavy silence as Brad pauses. “I hope you can forgive me someday.” The remorse is painted across his face. David nods, offering a halfhearted smile - really, it’s more of an acknowledgement. 

“Someday,” he laughs weakly. Brad stands up and circles his old desk, approaching David. He leans down to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“I should go. They’ll be looking for me.”

“Okay. See you.”

Brad exits, leaving a weighty sadness in the room for David to process alone. 

…

At the end of the day as David is finishing up his work for the afternoon, he hears a knock on the door and turns around in his chair to see Brad in the doorway. 

“Oh. Hey.” David tries to contain himself. He tries to act indifferent. Secretly, every time he sees Brad, his heart is stuttering with excitement, his stomach in knots. 

“Hey. I have to run. Business dinner. Here.” Brad walks towards David, extending his hand - in it is a small folded paper.

David takes it and watches Brad leave, a bit confused. He turns back to his computer and unfolds the paper - on it, Brad has scribbled the address of his hotel and his room number, and a time: 11 PM. Sharp. 

David is anxious for the rest of the night - that is, more anxious than usual. He decides to stay at the office trying to distract himself with whatever he can find, knowing that he’ll drive himself crazy if he goes back to his little apartment with nothing to do. The six hours go by slowly, agonizingly. He does some work. Orders himself food. Plays some games. Walks around the block. Does more work. 

Around 10:30, insides aflutter with a mix of dread, anticipation, and a little bit of excitement, he finally gets into his car and drives. He reaches the hotel earlier than he expected and sits in his car for a while, still gripping the wheel, still staring straight ahead, wondering why Brad asked him here to begin with. He glances at the analog clock on the center console - 10:57. He closes his eyes and sighs to himself before opening the car door. He walks inside, giving a quick wave to the people at the front desk hoping he seems innocuous enough, as if it even matters at all, and takes the elevator up to the seventh floor. After a bit of searching he finds Brad’s room. He hesitates before knocking. After a long moment, the door opens, Brad on the other side. 

“Hi. I wanted to talk to you. You can come in.” 

...

  
  


Brad and David lay under the starched sheets of Brad’s hotel bed, catching their breath, Brad’s head resting on David’s chest. They both wish they could live here, in this moment, forever. The air feels heavy with melancholy, the men having said their bittersweet goodbye - neither of them looking forward to tomorrow, both of them refusing to acknowledge that Brad leaves in the morning. 

“I wanted to ask you…” Brad muses, sizing his hand up against David’s. David hums in response, thumb of his other hand tracing circles into Brad’s arm. Brad decides not to say anything. The moment is too perfect. He wishes it would last forever. He wishes he wasn’t leaving. “It’s not important. I’ll ask tomorrow.”

“Okay.” David kisses Brad on the crown of his head. He knows not to pry. He’s okay with letting Brad do things on his own terms - especially right now, when everything feels so fragile. So fleeting. He reaches to turn off the bedside lamp. It’s getting late.

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” 

…

When David wakes in the morning, Brad is already dressed, his bags packed. He’s fixing his hair in the mirror above the dresser when he sees David sit up in bed, blinking his bleary eyes.

“Morning,” he says, giving David a small smile in the mirror. 

“You’re really leaving. Again.” 

“My flight is in an hour… The car is getting here in about twenty minutes to drive me to the airport.”

“I’m sad to see you go.”

“David, I... “ Brad turns around to face the other man, hesitating. He’s scared. “I want you to come with me.”

“You--  _ What?” _

“Please, David. Please come back with me. I want to be with you - we can be together. I have an apartment, and it’s small, but it’s nice, and I think you would like it in Montreal - we can go grab your passport from your place and I can arrange to have all of your things brought up, and--”

“ _ Brad.  _ Can you hear yourself? That’s… That’s insane! I can’t just pack up my life to go and be with-- Do you know how  _ selfish _ you sound?”

“You don’t want to… be together?” It’s a genuine question. He’s wounded; confused.

“You hurt me, Brad. You don’t get to just come back into my life for a week and expect me to do whatever you want me to do! You can’t force me to make that decision. You can’t make that decision  _ for  _ me!” He stares at Brad for another moment before getting out of bed and beginning to get dressed, picking his clothes up from where they had been haphazardly strewn across the floor. 

Brad lets David’s words settle heavily in the room around them as David buckles his belt and pulls his shirt over his head. “Dave--”

“I have a life too, whether you believe it or not, and unlike you, there are people here I would miss.” 

“You said you missed  _ me _ .”

“Not that much.” A lie.

“That’s not enough for you?”

“It wasn’t enough for you when you left. Missing me. It wasn’t enough to make you stay.”

“David, I’m sorry. I’m trying to fix this. I want to be with you.”

David runs a hand through his hair and blinks back tears. 

“No... I can’t do it.”

He walks to the door and opens it but feels a gentle grip on his arm, begging him to stop, to stay for just one more moment. He turns around to face Brad, who is trying to be strong, trying to conceal his feelings around David, but his eyes shine with tears that threaten to give him away. 

“David… I…” Brad’s voice is barely audible. His eyes search David’s frantically, desperately. A tear spills over. Slowly, with a hand that trembles, he reaches up to hold David’s face. David places a hand on Brad’s waist and tenderly, tenderly, for the last time, he presses a kiss to Brad’s lips. Pulling back, he studies Brad for a long moment, taking in the sight of him - tear tracks down his face, a wretched and lost look in his eyes, searching David for the answer to a question he can’t quite articulate, mouth slightly agape with realization. He’s utterly and irreparably broken. He has to live with this loss forever.

David leaves without another word. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read this!! I love you!
> 
> If you want, you can follow me on twitter @fievelnadir :)


End file.
